Pretty Kind of Dirty Face
by SeriouslySadie
Summary: Matty and Eloise were ships in the night, passing closely but never quite finding each other. That is, until now.
1. 01 Heart Out

**01 / Heart Out**

**{I remember that I like you, no matter what I found}**

Small towns really don't allow for privacy. At all. Growing up in such a town, I found myself growing accustomed to having conversations with complete strangers about something that happened to a close friend of mine - and we didn't even stop to question it. It's just what happens in small towns. Everyone knew everyone, even if they actually didn't.

Growing up, I always swore I was going to get out. I knew it. I had to escape. Unlike other people, I wanted to become anonymous, to live somewhere where no one knew my name, to not be cared about for once. That's why it came as a surprise to me when I finally turned twenty but was still living at home. For someone who only wanted to escape, I sure did a pretty shitty job getting out of the house.

This dawned on me one night as I sat alone in my room, reading the same book I'd already read a million times over. I had been in this exact same position entirely too often in the past three years. I was _twenty years old _for Pete's sake! And I was sitting in the same room from when I was seventeen, reading the same book, wearing some of the same clothes even. I never realized how much I hated it until it hit me how much I desperately craved a change of scenery.

As if an answer to a prayer, my phone rang.

"Hello?" I said, my voice hoarse from sitting in bed reading for hours on end.

"Eloise, where are you? I'm having a party, remember?"

Of course. Cecily always had parties, I just refused to come to most of them. I brushed them off when she invited me, not bothering to even attempt to remember. She just didn't usually call me to get me to come. Cecily, unlike me, was perfectly content to stay planted in her small town, as long as she had people to drink with. Maybe that was why we had always been such good friends - we were so similar on the outside, but deep down we were just about polar opposites.

"I'm sitting at home. Why?"

She sighed dramatically on the other end. "I _told _you that you had to come! The guys are home and we're welcoming them back! I even bought cheap wine!"

"As opposed to cheap beer?" I said, slightly sick of her shenanigans. This wasn't the first time she'd convinced me to come to one of her "great" parties, and I wasn't ready to clean puke off her living room carpet once again.

"Please," Cecily whined, "just come tonight and I won't make you come over any other time in the history of the world, okay?"

I rolled my eyes, but I had already set to work picking out my outfit for her party. With the phone balanced between my ear and shoulder, I pulled off my old sweatpants and instead wore sleek black skinny jeans. "Fine," I said, pulling out a lightweight red sweater and skimpy black pumps I knew I was sure to shed as soon as I walked in Cecily's door.

I could just about hear her smile coming through the phone. "Oh my god! I can't wait!" she squealed. "I have to go, people are starting to show up. Come over right away!"

I hung up and couldn't quite contain my own smile in spite of myself. It only took me minutes to get to my friend's house just down the road, and when I arrived I was almost positive that every light in her house was turned on. The usually dark street was illuminated, as if broadcasting to the entire neighborhood that yes, Cecily Jones was indeed having a party.

The second I let myself in, I was practically assaulted by the indie music she blasted just soft enough that the neighbors wouldn't complain but just loud enough I could barely hear myself think.

"Ellie!" Cecily screamed from behind me as I shed my jacket on the bench just inside the door. "I'm so happy you're here!"

Before I had a chance to protest, her hands were on my shoulders, steering me into the living room. She plopped me on the mostly empty couch and shoved a plastic cup into my hand. "You," she growled playfully, pointing a finger at me. "Stay here. Make friends. Have fun."

I wondered how many glasses of alcohol she had already downed, but I didn't protest. And with her simple commands, my best friend had disappeared and I was left alone on the couch, sipping my drink and softly singing along to Cecily's music. It didn't take me long to cave and pull out my phone, scrolling through everything I could find to entertain me.

I was already regretting not staying at home, and I'd only been at Cecily's for five minutes.

Suddenly, the couch shifted below me as someone landed next to me. I looked up from my phone to give whoever it was a dirty look only to see someone I recognized grinning at me.

"Hey El," he said, as if he'd known me our entire lives. In fact, we just about had. His name was Matty. I recognized him almost immediately, despite the longer haircut he wore compared to the last time I had seen him. He sounded upbeat yet still so laid-back, as if nothing I could possibly say would faze him. He definitely had guts, striking up a conversation with me on the couch, no matter what kind of background that we shared.

Regardless, there was probably no one else at the party that I would've desired to talk to.

I shot him a pointed glance. "Don't call me El."

Matty rolled his eyes. "Come on, babe, we used to be friends."

"_Used to be_," I pointed out. He and I had never been particularly close, except for a short span of time. I could never get over how full of himself he was. So naturally, I refused to let the little sparks we had amount to anything worthwhile.

He grinned at me, leaning in to look me in the eyes. "Did you miss me?"

I couldn't help but laugh. Matty and three of his friends had been in a band for as long as I'd known them - in fact, Cecily was good friends with the four guys, which was why she threw the "extra-classy" party on this night. A coming home present to her old friends. While she and I were being lame university students, living at home and working odd jobs, Matty and the guys were off recording several EP's to release to the world. They had left our little town with their manager only a couple of months ago, but had already come back with new wardrobes (very black, of course) and new haircuts. They were a real band now, not just pretentious teenagers. The 1975 was growing on people.

But despite what he thought, I certainly did not miss Matty. And I had an intent to let him know . . . eventually. "Oh, I missed you a _lot,_" I whispered to him sarcastically. "There wasn't a day that went by when I didn't think about you. The dark cloud over my life has finally been lifted since your return, oh wonderful one." Then, to prove my point, I sat back into the arm of the couch again and playfully pushed Matty away from me.

"I knew you missed me," he said, retreating a little and narrowing his eyes at me.

Casually taking a sip of my drink, I watched Matty fiddle with the hem of his shirt, his calloused hands moving delicately. His fingers twirled around a string, not ripping it, just playing with it. Involuntarily, I was thrown back into the past, remembering how it felt to have his fingers twirling the hair at the nape of my neck. It had felt so good back then, when we were both younger and definitely more careless. We ignored the sarcastic comments from our friends at a previous party of Cecily's and escaped up to her room for a few stolen moments.

I could remember the Christmas lights in her room flickering, as if they were deciding if they were on or off, whether or not they wanted to witness the collision between Matty and I.

I couldn't remember what happened to the lights, but nevertheless, a collision was what happened. He used his clumsy feet to shut the door behind us, he used his strong fingers to knot the hair falling out of my ponytail, he used his gentle lips to shut me up for once.

God, I had loved him. In that moment, his pretentious armor fell down and I was struck with how lovely the _real _Matty was. He was flawed, tragically and beautifully, and I loved it. I never wanted to stop smelling the smoke on his clothes, the alcohol on his breath. I never wanted to stop hearing the music made simply by his breathing.

But when we pulled away from our kiss, I remembered it all stopping. In that moment, I could tell that whatever he meant to me (and I wasn't quite sure what that was) was certainly not reciprocated. If it was, he wasn't good at communicating it.

"Hey El, are you okay?" Matty asked, jolting me from my daydream.

I shook my head and quickly tipped back the glass I had in my hand, letting Cecily's cheap wine wash away the bad feeling I had in my throat after being reminded of my brief history with Matty. He couldn't know I was thinking of this. "I'm fine," I told him, a little too harshly. "Don't call me El."

"What are you thinking about?" He leaned closer to me, wiggling his eyebrows as if he knew exactly what was going through my mind.

I laughed at him. "Certainly not you," I scoffed.

Trying not to appear too flustered, I placed my cup on the coffee table and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Matty asked, grabbing my now empty hand.

I rolled my eyes. "Nowhere of any importance." I pulled my hand out of his grasp, but turned to face him once more. "I'm going to the bathroom," I mumbled, as if I owed him an explanation. I told myself I most certainly didn't.

But I did owe my hostess an explanation, because I had no intentions to go to the bathroom. Instead, I made my way to the door and slipped on my jacket. Right on cue, Cecily appeared next to me. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "I thought I ordered you to stay put."

"I'm done. I have to go home."

She put her hand on my shoulder, either to keep me from moving or to steady herself - I wasn't sure which. "Ellie," she whispered, "you have to stay. _Matty's_ here."

She acted as if it were a big secret, like she didn't know perfectly well that I had just spent more than enough time with him. She acted clueless, but I was certain that Cecily had a hand in putting Matty and I in the same room again. No doubt she was trying to start something up again. I wouldn't allow it. I didn't need a "cool guy" like him in my life. I was content with some warm tea and my books.

"I have to leave. I'm sorry. I had fun. I'm . . . not feeling well. I'll call you soon, okay?"

She let go of my arm and stumbled backward. "Sure. If you insist."

I opened up the door, the cool breeze outside striking me by surprise. Before I could second guess myself, I turned around. "Hey Cecily?" I asked, still standing in the open doorway.

She was about to bring her attention back to her party, but I caught her just in time. "Yeah?"

"Just . . ." I started. "Just don't tell Matty I left, okay? I told him I was just going to the bathroom."

Cecily's green eyes met mine with a smile. "No problem, Ellie."


	2. 02 An Encounter

When I woke up at one in the morning, it was usually because I was craving comfort. However, on this night, a mug of chocolate ice cream and an episode of _Friends_ didn't help in the slightest. I was exhausted, but I couldn't bring myself to close my eyes. There was something else I needed that I couldn't place my finger on. So, I pulled on an old sweatshirt and quietly exited the house.

I thought about making my way to Cecily's house, considering she lived right down the road. Growing up without any siblings made me spend many late nights with my best friend - I was even considering asking her to take a walk at 1 AM. But this was one night where Cecily's enthusiasm wasn't going to be warmly welcomed by me. If ice cream and _Friends _didn't help, I wasn't sure what would.

Thankful (for one of the first times ever) that I lived in a small town, I made my way down the quiet streets. The few lampposts we had illuminated my path, watching over me to make sure I didn't fall on my face.

It didn't take me long to realize how absolutely wonderful walks at night were. Maybe this was exactly what I needed, the satisfaction to my frequent late-night cravings. Maybe all I needed was time alone, to breathe some fresh air and allow the breeze to clear my head.

I didn't have much time to clear my head, though, before I was struck with too many thoughts to comprehend at once. Up ahead, a figure stood, cloaked in the shadows of the streetlights. He walked toward me, stumbling to the edge of the road as he did so.

Telling myself that it was all a huge mistake - the slippers I still wore on my feet, the time I chose to take a walk, the fact that I was missing my cell phone and couldn't call for help - I froze in my place, directly under a light. I couldn't decide if I should run back to my house or if maybe Cecily's was closer or if I should just stay put and scream my heart out.

But then he spoke. I could have recognized that voice just about anywhere. "El?" the shadow ahead of me yelled. Then, again, but more excited, "El!"

I started to pivot on my heel and leave. There was one person in the entire world who called me El; I knew damn well who it was. I wanted a late-night walk to calm my ever-racing mind, and Matty was not about to ruin it.

"No, Matty," I said loudly, walking in the opposite direction. Footsteps ran after me and I braced myself for the worst - a full-on piggyback ride? A smooch on the lips? I wasn't quite sure.

But then, the street was silent. Matty's boots stopped clicking on the pavement. All I could hear were the crickets in the bushes mingled with the sound of my own breath. And then, another noise from the man behind me.

"Eloise?"

His voice was quiet and hoarse, barely anything more than a whisper.

"Please."

I resisted the urge to sigh as I gave in, turning around. Instead of standing in the shadows like he was before, Matty was sitting on the pavement, his hands running through his messy black hair. I couldn't help but pity him; he looked so vulnerable, drunk and alone in the middle of the road. So I made my way to where he was.

He looked up as I sat down next to him. "Eloise? What are you doing?"

I shrugged, not sure how to answer but nonetheless thankful he used my real name. Maybe he wasn't so bad afterall. "Sitting here with you."

There was a pause. Matty looked back down at his hands in his lap. He murmured something, but not sure if it were intended for my ears, I didn't ask him to repeat it. Instead, I just listened, trying to make out bits and pieces of his slurred rant.

Without warning, Matty's arm wrapped around my shoulders. "Hey love," he said into my ear. God, he reeked of alcohol. "I'm sure a kiss from you would make me feel a whole lot better." His free hand reached up to grab one of the strings of my sweatshirt as he tried to keep me close.

Thanks to his hindered reaction time, I pushed him off of me easily. I had pitied him in his drunken depression, but _this _was the part of him I couldn't help but hate - the shallow, desperate, part of him that ran deeper than his bad boy image. "Ugh," I growled, "fuck off, Matty."

He sat still on the street, still trying to register what had just happened. "But," he started, then stopped. He simply looked at me, something between hatred and hurt in his eyes.

"Go home."

He shook his head. "Can't."

And I knew he couldn't. He wouldn't. Matty, one of the last people in the world I wanted to see, was now my responsibility. Thinking back to when I saw him in the shadows mere minutes ago, I had to admit he was a step up from the serial killer I was afraid was lurking in the neighborhood.

I let out a heavy sigh, then came back to stand directly next to Matty. "Come on," I said roughly, pulling him up by his sweater. "You can crash on my couch."

Matty grinned at me. "Can we _both _crash on your couch?" He winked.

"No," I told him. I didn't think I even wanted to share a room with a sober Matty, let alone share a couch with an intoxicated one.

As we stumbled through the streets together, he still vented to me. This time, he was louder, but he still whispered the best he could. Every word he spoke seemed like a secret, like something only I was privileged enough to hear.

"I just can't believe it," he said, staring at the ground. "I mean, still, even now. . . . I told her that, too, just the other day when I saw her at Cecily's. But she just didn't listen." Matty ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I mean, what would you do?"

I shrugged. Apparently there was some girl trouble in his life.

"And then there's Louis. . . . " He went back to whispering to himself. "I just don't know what to do."

I shrugged again. Part of me wanted to wrap my arm around him and give him a hug - I couldn't stand seeing anyone this torn up. I didn't, though, I saw he was obviously upset about that girl and Louis, the little boy I'd seen riding bike many times around the town. They were brothers, but I didn't realize they were close. Who knew the high-and-mighty Matty Healy had feelings?

There was a pause in his speech as we neared my house. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to respond to something he had said, so I kept my mouth shut, watching the road in front of us for any stray cats.

"Hey Eloise?" he asked after a second, unusually polite. "Do you have any sticky toffee pudding at your house?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I don't know, probably. Why?"

"I could really go for some sticky toffee pudding right now. Have you ever had sticky toffee pudding?"

Ushering him into my house, I laughed.

"It's hot and the raisins are hot," he said, going on another (louder, although less emotional) rant. He trailed off as I shut the door behind us, a loud laugh escaping from his lips as he reiterated his love for the desert.

I was never sure what to think of him, but in this moment, all I wanted to do was shut him up. I set Matty up on the couch in the basement, a large cup of his requested snack (stolen from my dad's "secret" stash, of course) in one hand and a homemade quilt in the other. I prayed he wouldn't puke on either.

He tried to convince me to stay. "Please, sit down. Just have a bite," he begged, holding out his spoon to me. "It's great, you have to stay and share it with me."

I smiled, but declined politely, flipping on the TV. Within minutes, he was enthralled by the presentation on the local home shopping network, and I was able to sneak back upstairs.

Before heading back to my warm bed, I left a simple note in the kitchen for my parents. _Sorry, had to help out a drunk friend,_ I scribbled. _He's on the couch downstairs, try not to wake him._

I kicked my covers off lazily, stretching as I did so. The sunlight streamed in through my bedroom window, letting me know it was well past 10 AM. I wasn't ever one for sleeping in, even after late nights filled with Cecily and her wild drinks. I couldn't stand feeling as if I'd missed most of the day, despite how much I'd lived the previous night.

Oh right.

Last night.

Groggily I stood up and pulled on the first pair of pants I could find - an old pair of ripped jeans I'd worn far too many times. I had completely forgotten about Matty and the fact that he was passed out on my couch. I'd offered him my blankets and my pudding, but I wasn't sure what to do with him after he ate and slept, though. Maybe make him coffee? I was never one for much drinking, so I never had to deal with hangovers. I left that to Cecily and her other friends, and I simply made sure they made it home eventually.

In the kitchen, I found a second note left underneath the one I had left. My parents had gotten up early, as usual, and according to my mother's perfect cursive, they had gone out for a Saturday morning of shopping at yard sales. My friend was left down in the basement and some coffee was left in the pot for the two of us.

I had just poured myself a bowl of Lucky Charms when I heard my cell phone ring. Even though it was in my room down the hall, I could distinctly hear the ringtone I had set for Cecily. Bubblegum sweet pop music played, a song she and I had loved back in middle school. It was one of those songs you knew all the words to but desperately wished you didn't, which sort of went for my friendship with Cecily too.

I reached my phone by the last line of the chorus, right before she got sent to voicemail. "Hello?"

"Ellie!" Cecily sounded excited, but there was a hint of anxiety in her voice. "By any chance have you seen Matty in the last twenty-four hours?"

I tried to hold back a giggle. "Actually, yes. He's passed out on my couch right now."

On the other line, Cecily exhaled deeply. "Oh thank God. George," she said, turning her attention to the other people in the room with her, "I found him. He's at Eloise's house."

I heard a low voice say something in response but he was too far from the receiver for Cecily's phone to pick up what he said. "Okay," she said, her tone shifting even more from anxious to relieved, but keeping that same hurried tone. "George will be over in just a few minutes. Thank you so much."

"No problem," I told her before hanging up the phone. George was one of the guys Matty was friends with - they were practically inseparable in high school. He played drums in the band they'd formed early on in their friendship, the same band that they were still playing in. George was tall, but his broad shoulders balanced his height. His hair was shaved on the sides, like Matty's, although he pulled off messy blonde dread locks instead of a normal mane. He and Cecily got along well, due to their mutual love of casually drinking in her living room. I tended to be an infrequent addition at these gatherings, but I still managed to form some sort of a friendship with George. I had to admit, part of me felt as if he were on reserve for my best friend, even though nothing had ever happened between the two of them.

I was only a minute into contemplating the status of George and Cecily's relationship when a knock sounded at my door.

"Hey," I said, opening it and stepping out of the way, "come on in. Matty's still asleep downstairs, I think. Do you want some coffee?"

George stepped inside with a smile. "Of course."

I led him down the hallway to the kitchen and motioned for him to grab a seat at the counter. I poured him a fairly full mug of warm coffee before getting one for myself.

"Thank you so much," he said as I handed him the warm mug and sat down. "I mean, not just for the coffee either. For helping Matty out, too."

I shrugged, trying to remain as nonchalant about it as possible. "It's no big deal. I felt bad for him."

After a sip of coffee, George turned to glance at me, his brown eyes meeting mine. "How'd you find him anyway? Did he just show up at your front door last night?"

I smiled at him. I told him about waking up in the middle of the night, feeling like I needed something. I told him about taking my walk and being terrified when I saw a stranger in the street. I told him about figuring out it was Matty and pitying him. I left out the drunken rambles and the sticky toffee pudding.

George shook his head. "Shit I'm sorry Eloise. You shouldn't have had to deal with him when he's like that."

"No, don't worry about it," I said shaking my head. "I don't mind."

It was funny - the more I assured him I didn't mind, the more that statement became true. The night before, it was so easy to be angry at Matty, to be frustrated at how much of an inconvenience he was to me. But sitting at my kitchen counter with George, I felt like the night before was far behind me. And I didn't feel the same way about his friend. Maybe the several hours of sleep had cleared my head, but when I said that I was happy to help him out, to make sure he didn't end up dead on the street, I wasn't lying.

"He called me last night," George said softly, "I guess that was right before he went out and ran into you. He was really upset. And drunk. But mostly upset. I fell asleep soon after, but I was worried about him."

I laughed. "Yeah, I noticed he was upset when I found him." I paused, not sure if it was my place to ask what was wrong with him. I decided that even if it wasn't, Matty was asleep on _my _couch. I figured I had some sort of a right to ask questions. "What happened to him?"

George let out a long sigh. "He ran into his ex at a little party at Cecily's that night. He wanted to patch things up between the two of them, but she wasn't having it. I guess he took it pretty hard. He was fine when he was texting me from his house. I don't know what happened to him between when he left the party and when you found him in the streets, though." He paused to take another sip of his coffee. "Is he still asleep?"

I nodded. "I'm pretty sure he is, but I haven't checked on him."

"Well, I'm sorry to just stop by for some coffee, but I've got to run. I have somewhere to be and Matty probably needs the sleep. Would you mind making sure he gets back to my place after he's up and moving?"

The both of us stood up and slowly made our way to my front door. "I don't mind," I said, once again finding that I meant it. "Don't worry."

He ran a hand up to his head, pushing his blonde hair back from his face. "I'm just glad Matty's okay. Thank you so much, Eloise."

I smiled, feeling like I finally did something worthwhile with my life, like I made a small difference somewhere. "Happy to help."

He left, giving me a very brief hug and offering a little wave before I shut the door behind him.

With George gone, I made my way back into the kitchen and poured the last of the coffee into a clean mug. Then, holding the mug in both hands, I walked lightly down the stairs into the basement. Even before I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard Matty's soft snore coming from the couch. Turning the corner, I saw him laying there, fast asleep. His arm was hanging off the couch and his mouth was slightly open, letting more little snores out. He looked so peaceful there. The TV was still on from the night before, trying in vain to sell Matty overpriced skincare products.

I placed the mug on the coffee table in front of him, and the little clink of the ceramic hitting the finished wood waking him up. His snore caught in his throat as he jolted awake. His eyes fluttered open, first spotting me, then the mug. A smile spread across his face, even reaching his eyes. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him so happy.

"Thanks love," he said softly. Then, as he sat up and no doubt felt the pounding pain in his head, "Fuck. How much did I drink last night?"

I had to laugh, although I felt guilty about it. "I've no clue, I wasn't there."

Matty looked puzzled as he took a sip of his coffee. Then, he simply shrugged and nodded as if the memories were coming back to him. I wondered how much he could remember.

Unsure what move to make next, I busied myself by glancing around the room. On the floor next to the couch, an almost full bowl of pudding sat. "Hey, you never ate your favorite pudding." I gestured toward the bowl.

He laughed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you; I don't even like sticky toffee pudding all that much."

I rolled my eyes. "So I made that last night for nothing?"

"Basically."

There was a pause in the conversation. I wasn't sure what to say. So I simply didn't say anything. Instead, I stared down at my hands and picked at m chipped red nail polish. When I looked up, Matty wasn't engrossed in his coffee or back asleep like I'd expected.

His deep brown eyes were trained on me.

I made eye contact with him, and instantly wanted to look away, realizing he was already looking at me. I felt my cheeks growing red, but I refused to let him win. "What's up with you, Matty?" I spit the words out like spoiled milk.

He shook his head with a little smile. "It's nothing, El. I just noticed you have freckles on your nose."

Once again I was rendered speechless. I watched him carefully in return as he pulled the blanket I gave him onto his lap. He looked so cozy there, the mug cupped in his hands and his legs crossed under him. I wished I could get a glimpse into how his mind worked. Why would he care if I had freckles? Lots of people did. I wasn't special in any form, especially not to him. I remembered that from our previous meetings. He didn't even care enough to call me by my real name.

"I thought I told you not to call me El," I told him quietly. "George stopped by, he wants to you to head back to his place, so when you're done with your coffee, you can just leave your dishes down here. I'll clean them up and put the blanket back."

"Are you sure? I mean, I can bring them up-"

"No," I said, cutting him off, "don't worry about it." I flashed him a little nervous smile before I turned sharply on my heel and went upstairs.

At the kitchen counter once again, I sat down with a sigh, wondering why most of my encounters with Matty ended with me rushing prematurely away.


End file.
